


learning to live without the heartache it gives me

by Anonymous



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Why did you happen to me? You asks him over and over again, although the question will never really reach him.





	learning to live without the heartache it gives me

You tell yourself you are over him.

In a way it's true. You don't think about him that often and you don't wake up in the middle of the night from a dream about him. He doesn't invade every single one of your thoughts anymore. You can do everything you have to do, everything you _want to_ do; you breathe, you laugh, you smile, you are happy.

And _yet._

___

It's stupid, you realise that.

Trying to get over something that had never even begun.

___

Smiles, glances, jokes, terrible pick-up lines, working next to each other for years and the quiet understanding that came with it, morning coffee, wishful thinking, patience, understanding, hope, all the ridiculous bets, all the moments of silence, the pull between the two of you, words heavy with meaning, the secret longing, compassion, tenderness, frustration and anger and how at peace you felt around him.

Thousands of small and meaningless things that somehow ended up meaning a lot.

___

 _I am over it_ , you tell yourself and yet your heart still skips when he texts you.

 _I am over it_ , you tell yourself as you hear someone talking about him and yet you can't help but come closer and listen to them, clutching to the tiniest piece of him, even if it's falling from someone else's mouth.

 _I am over him_ , you tell yourself when you lie awake at night, with your eyes wide open and your head and heart blazing full of him.

___

Paradoxically, indifference isn't what hurts the most.

You are doing fine when you don't hear from him. Honestly, you're doing more than fine.

What hurts the most is his attention.

A random text with an inside joke only the two of you will understand.

Holiday wishes.

Text saying _'I loved the play, you absolutely nailed it xo!_ '

Things like that give you hope that he still cares.

___

Hope is one hell of a bitch. On one hand, it tells you _'oh, it's going to be better, you will be fine_ '.

On the other hand, it tells you: _'he will call you. He will ask you to come back. He will fight and-'_

And you are stuck in this place, where nothing seems to be clear and where everything is painted in dull shades of grey. You feel like you're caught in between two worlds: a world with the freedom _from_ this whole thing and a world with the freedom _for_ it. No matter where you go, the other side calls for you and you keep on going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

You wonder how much longer you can spin between these two worlds, one second here, another one there. You feel like you're wasting your time. You feel like you're wasting your life. You're starting to feel a little bit tired from this.

You just want a solid ground under your feet.

___

And honestly, you don't know what would be worse: him not caring at all or caring as much as you do, but never letting you know.

___

Yet you are not as sensible as you pretend to be.

You are not as sensible as you want to be.

And if sometimes your heart takes the better of you and you grab your phone and text him, and then respond to his reply and crack a joke… That's nothing big, right? That's just what former colleagues do.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

You never said that you are as sensible as you _should_ be.

___

Walking away was a good decision, you know that. It helped you in so many ways, it helped you to heal. You don't regret it, not really. Leaving and changing - it made you stronger. It made you smarter and sharper, and it made you see that there's a whole wide world, something other than this _something_ you'd been stuck in.

And yet there are days when you want to walk right back in this terrible old mess.

There are days when you want to go back there with your eyes closed, with flames licking your feet and your heart laid out on your hand for the whole world to see and for him to take.

___

 _Why did you happen to me_? You asks him over and over again, although the question will never really reach him.

Why did he happen to you? Why at the particular time? Why did he have to be him? With his smile and his words, and his fucking awful jokes and just- all these dumb, endearing, funny, ridiculously maddening things that made him into the person you cherished so much.

_Why did you happen to me?_

_And why didn't you happen to stay?_

_____

You are not defined by him. He does not complete you, you are your own whole person. You'd been through so much, you'd loved, laughed, cried, worried, experienced joy and fear and relief, despaired, created and destroyed long before he stumbled into your life.

And yet a small part of your life is marked by him. You're still feeling it, you're still feeling him - his presence is still a raw and vibrant mark on your soul and in your mind. Will it fade over time? When will you start to forget?

But really, the question is: did you leave a mark in his life? Does he still remember you? Does he still revel in the memories?

Or has he already forgotten?

___

Remembering is like probing a wound that has already started closing. You know it's bad for you, but you just love the taste of blood on your tongue. It's metallic, dusty and heavy, it goes straight to your heart. Or maybe straight to your head. Who knows, really?

It's terrible, but it gives you this sick and twisted feeling of comfort. It's miserable as hell, but it feels familiar: it envelopes you in the softest and gentlest of touches and for the briefest of moments you don't think about anything, you just feel.

So you do it again and again and again _and_ -

___

You know there _will_ be time when you'll be finally free. Free from him, free from any memories, free from his voice and the way your name sounded sliding from his mouth, free from the pull you'd felt for him.

You can't wait for it.

But who knows? Maybe it's just idle hope. Maybe it'll never happen. Maybe you'll always carry a part of him with you - imprinted on your hands, at the tip of your tongue, in the back of your mind, close enough to make you itch, but just too far for you to grab it and remember what it'd really felt like.

And who knows, maybe he'll feel the same way about you.

Only time will tell.

For now, you just sit and wait.


End file.
